“Das Leben wird vorwärts gelebt und rückwärts verstanden.”
We live our life as it unfolds, but we can only make sense of it in hindsight. Søren Kierkegaard
What I try to do with my photography is to photograph very intuitively. In hindsight, when I look at these pictures, they reveal something. They reveal something about me, make me aware of something, or make me acknowledge something that was already deep inside of me.
January is over, and with it, the time when most of us review our New Year’s resolutions. I don’t do resolutions, but I do create themes for each year, and this year’s theme is:
A commitment to my photography.
What does that mean? There are many layers to it. The commitment part is about always coming back to the core of what I’m doing. To figure out our gift and what to do with our gift. I think that this iss one of the most challenging things in life that we face.
The Courage to Pick Yourself
Commitment also means understanding that I am enough. And to pick myself – this is always challenging for me.
No workshop, no magazine submissions, no awards can distract me. That’s what I’m trying to do with this statement. Because it is easy to fall off the track. To look at what my photography actually is, can be very hard, especially when we have our aspirations in mind: I want to be in this place, I want to be someone who has an exhibition in a gallery. When the question is: Is that really my path forward?
What Do I Want My Photography to Be?
For some, photography might be about making money from their art. That’s not the case for me. For others, it means having a following, the recognition of their work. Well, part of that is true for me. But that’s not my main motivation. So what is it actually that I’m trying to achieve?
I have to look in both directions. Something that satisfies me that’s very easy for me to do. I can shoot for myself and that is great, but I also want to share this work. I’m not alone in this.
So what is it actually that I’m trying to achieve?
I have to look in both directions. Something that satisfies me. That’s very easy for me to do. I can shoot for myself and that is great, but I also want to share this work. I’m not alone in this. And sharing is the scary part.
The Courage to Be Disliked
Sharing means showing up. Sharing means the courage to be disliked. Sharing means that I might be misunderstood, that some might be offended by my photographs. And to find meaning in that sharing is also important.
Right now, I’m reading: Zen Camera by David Ulrich, a photographer and Zen practitioner. In this book, there’s a sentence that struck me:
What if my photography becomes my Zen practice?
That really resonates with me. It kind of describes what I’m trying to do: that photography is like this mindful practice that allows me to simply see things as they are. A practice that always pulls me back into the present moment. This discards illusions. What do I need to be? What do I think my photography ought to be? That’s the theme for this year. My challenge for this year.
Five Pictures of January
In January, it was really cold and we had snow almost all winter. At first it was exciting, but later on it was just energy-draining to go outside. So it’s only on three occasions that I went out.
The Golden Deer
I walked into the local park when the snow was really fresh. The lawn where people used to sit in summer was all covered with snow. There’s this little wall that leads up to a fountain, and on this fountain there’s a column with a statue of a golden deer. In the background, you can see the bare trees.
What I like about this photo is it kind of feels magical – this deer there. It reminds me of something from childhood, when I took a walk through the woods and suddenly saw a deer. That was kind of magical, that connection with nature that was there for an instant moment.
I like this contrast. It’s very white and calm, the fresh snow that covered everything. But also, there is something else in there. Something alive.
Willow Branches
Another one I took that day was willow branches. I stood under the willow tree, and these branches were hanging down like hair in front of me, like a waterfall.
In these branches, you can see a figure, if you like. There’s this flow-;the willow represents the water element, which is the element of winter.
There’s this contradiction as well: you have this flow in the time when everything feels frozen.
Canal at Sundown
The other pictures I took were on my commute along the Teltow Canal. One was during sundown-;or after the sun had already gone down. You see the chimney of the power plant and the smoke rising. Then there’s the reflection of that in the water of the canal.
The canal is leading to the horizon. At the end of the canal, you can see just a little spot of light.
I love the colors of this. The light in January is really, really beautiful. The only thing is that the weather is rather unpredictable and sometimes it’s really too cold to go outside. But I love this calm scene there.
Trees in Water
Then there’s the other one, which is kind of uncomfortable to look at for me. It plays with trees and their reflection in the water. It’s a very stripped-down composition, almost symmetrical.
It feels like a razor blade. There’s something, a sharpness to this that makes me feel uncomfortable.
Sometimes the photographs that make us uncomfortable are the ones we need to pay attention to.
Grass in Snow at Sunrise
The last one was when I went out to Grünau and the River Dahme to catch the first light of morning. That was when I was really excited about going out and making photographs in the snow. I had the power to do that.
You can see this bundle of grass in the foreground, how it emerges from the snow. Then you see this white, white field of snow to the horizon where the sun came up.
It feels like it’s from a different world. You cannot imagine that this is in Berlin. But it is.
It just brings me back to this moment of this beautiful, cold day, seeing the sunrise over the frozen river.
An Invitation
If you’re exploring photography as a mindfulness practice, I invite you to walk this path as it unfolds. Not the polished version of it, but the real one-;with all its vulnerability, uncertainty, and moments of uncomfortable clarity.
When you look at these five pictures, I’d love to hear: How do they make you feel? What emerges from you? Because this isn’t just my journey. It’s ours.
